Take neighbors for instance. In today’s world, we often don’t know the names of our neighbors. We see them, but we don’t really know them. It’s as if a mental wall has been placed around our home. Often we simply don’t want to let people into our inner circle.

There was a time, thankfully, this was not the case when it came to our neighbors. For me, growing up in “small town America” (as I like to refer to my home of Monticello), being a neighbor actually meant something. It meant being a friend. It meant being there when your neighbor needed something. It meant something not only to be called “neighbor,” but to be called a good one.

Last week my hometown community said goodbye to one of its finest in Calvin “Jake” Fish. Known by a multitude of people, Jake was not just a neighbor to my family, but a friend as well. As long as I’ve known who someone was, I’ve known Jake Fish, as my parents moved near him when I was still an infant.

Growing up in the country, Jake wasn’t the type of neighbor whose house was literally a few feet from yours. He was “just up the hill” as I always said. Taking the turn onto Calvin Road from Post Road, it took about a minute to get from the Bridges household to the Fish estate. Jake was one whose welcome mat was always out. He was one if you saw him in your back yard (or if he saw you in his), you didn’t worry about it. He was obviously there for a good reason. He was the kind of neighbor that didn’t have to ask to borrow something. We knew it would be returned.

I’m not sure I’ve met anyone more honest or more down to earth than Jake Fish. His oldest son, John, was close in age to me and the two of us spent countless childhood hours and days roaming the woods, swimming in creeks and just about anything two youngsters could get into.

I remember venturing into Jake’s body shop, located across the street from his home. The smell of automobile paint is still fresh in my mind. It was just another stop on the trail of mischief his son and I would see if we could get into.

Jake had a passion for many things, but loved the outdoors. His love of fishing is legendary in our town and is unmatched by anyone I’ve ever known. I also thought it fitting when you considered his last name. It was a name he certainly lived up to.

It’s ironic though. Human nature, or at least mine, just assumed he would always be with us. For almost 40 years he resided just up the street from us. My home is made elsewhere now, but my parents still live at the same address, just a stone’s throw from Jake’s.

Most in my hometown know of the tragedy he had tried to overcome in recent years. It is a tragedy that I certainly sympathize with, but one I cannot truly understand. He fought against health issues bravely and with dignity.

I’ve never been much for goodbyes. They’re too sad, too depressing and they go against my nature of not wanting good things to change. We were not family in terms of bloodlines, but Jake Fish represented so much that is good about the human race that you felt just being associated with him made you look better. I used to proudly tell people who would mention his name that “he’s my neighbor” knowing it would lift my status.

It’s tough accepting that he’s gone, partly because as I continue to get older, I realize that dealing with loss will become more frequent. I don’t like it, and it scares me greatly knowing I can’t stop it.

Many people don’t understand the value of a good neighbor. But when you and your family have been blessed by having one of the best next to you, then you understand what it means.
Jake Fish will always be my family’s neighbor and my family’s friend and our lives are certainly less whole today with him gone.

Chris Bridges is editor of the Barrow Journal. You can contact him at cbridges@barrowjournal.com.

Bridges political acumen shows why he will be forever limited to small-town sentimental maundering. Only a few weeks ago, he was blabbing about Rick Santorum's wild success. Right now that would be "Who?" So, as long as Bridges sticks to quaint musings appropriate to "The Waltons" and "Leave It to Beaver," he is harmless.